Unsent Letters
by ronXbouillabase
Summary: AU. Angsty. Mrs. Archibald writes to Chuck Bass--a missing Chuck Bass, presumed dead.


Unsent Letters

A/N: So, I know, I haven't written much lately. Whenever C and B are on hiatus I am on hiatus. I hate the sad-ending scenario for B and C but I am trying this out,

Summary: Blair Archibald writes to the man she could never see again. AU. Angsty.

Additional Notes: So, Chuck is 'gone'. Whether dead or not? I leave the choice to you. (Personally, I prefer him dead rather than not chasing Blair.)

By the way, did anyone see the 'take me now' promo for Chair? It can't load cause My Stinkin" Adobe Flash Player ISN'T WORKING!!!! but I am so excited!

Disclaimer: All The CW's/Cecily Von Zieglesar's.

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_"Blurring and stirring - the truth and the lies,  
So I don't know what's real,  
so I dont know what's real and what's not,  
what's real and what's not.  
Always confusing the thoughts in my head  
So I can't trust myself anymore  
I'm dying again  
I'm going under  
Drowning in you  
I'm falling forever  
I've got to break through"_

_-Going Under, Evanescence_

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…_.I love you. Still. Motherchucker. See you never._

_Until I can't stand the temptation not to write,_

_Blair Waldorf_

She always signed it Blair Waldorf.

Hastily finishing it and blowing once to make sure the ink did not stain, her husband's thick ancient ink, more like a quill than a pen, she opened the safe and locked it--just in time to hear the front door slam.

"Mother!"

She ran to Ella Archibald with open arms, and Ella reciprocated, her warm five-year-old body wriggling in her mother's arms with some of the residual heart from when she was a baby. The door-window of the Archibald mansion made the back of her caramel hair glitter bright-gold, and her warm gray eyes lit up with her father's fervor.

"How was school, baby?"

"I got in a fight with Titi Coates," she proclaimed gleefully. Titi Coates was a supremely unimaginative girl with her mother's genius for academics and her father's good looks (her father was a second cousin of Humphrey's).

"Oh, baby," Blair said, trying to look reproachful. Her heart surged in admiration. "What happened?"

"I gave her a stubbed toe. She cried."

"Did you get sent to the principal's office?"

"No." She swirled her cookie in her milk as Dorota watched on in admiration. "She's scared of you. Her whole family's scared of you."

Blair sat on the divan and listened to Ella prattle away about school, the childish babble lulling her into a kind of comfortable somnolence about her feelings for Chuck. In this sunlit afternoon, child met lover in a kind of joyous fireworks and there was no confusion.

Still a dreamer.

"Do you have homework sweetie?"

"No, Mother," Ella said reproachfully. "Today is _Friday_."

"Oh, right." Blair's dim memories of childhood, which she had since vanished from her mind, were of getting married to Nate, which came to an abrupt end when he proclaimed his infidelity by kissing Mary-Alice Vanderbilt. The upshot of it all, and her subsequent revenge, was Mary-Alice moving away with a new, bald haircut, and Nate begging for her.

Ella moved to the couch. "When is Daddy coming home?"

Blair snapped out of her dreams. "Oh--I don't know. Seven."

"You look tired, Mother." She came to sit beside her.

Blair smiled absently, playing with the curls in the back of Ella's head. "Just tired."

"Yes, Mother," Ella insisted. "That's what I said."

"I mean--just….lazy. I mean--well, I'm rather tired, sweetie." When the memories of Chuck became too poignant she always took a day off from work--not that she needed to work--and wrote the mots insane, passionate letters to him.

Ella nodded and wrapped her arms around her mother's too-thin waist. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yes, I'm sure." She toyed with a strand of the hair. "Now eat your cookies."

Ella disentangled herself and headed again to the kitchen, where she finished off her cookies and started her homework.

_No,_ Blair thought between clenched teeth. _She will never know Chuck. It will cause her too much pain. She is my baby, she is all I have, and I will never let her think I am not in love with her father. She will never have to go through seeing her father run off with another man. She will never have to watch her mother fall for Cyrus Rose--no matter how kind he is. She will be Queen of the social scene and she will have the best boyfriend and she will have the best closet._

It did not occur to her that were it not for Nate's restraining hand, she would have spoiled Ella beyond reason. It did not occur to her that such a 'perfect' life was bound to put great pressure on her. In true Blair fashion, in her most deluded moments she could not reconcile the image with the reality.

O0...0O

In the middle of the night, when Nate's snores became unbearable, she flew down the stairs, to Nate's study, and found the little wood box, took the key out of her bra, and opened it up. Her nimble fingers flew back to the first entry--the first letter.

The first one she had actually intended to mail. The envelope was all stamped and everything. Neatly slitted on the top, when she had reread it.

The postal address: Purgatory.

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_January 1, 2009_

_Dear Charles Bass:_

_I hope this letter finds you __in the best of health __rotting away with some hooker._

_What have you been doing with yourself? Scratch that; I know already. Drinking. Sex, booze, drugs. Self-dissolution._

_Are you thinking of me?_

_I am in agony. Every night I lay awake after my nightmares of you, telling me you hate me. Every night I walk around the house, empty, spent even if I did nothing all day. I think I am turning mad. I can feel the edge of insanity to myself._

_I want you and I need you and I love you. Where are you, you selfish bastard? Can you please spare time for me?_

_Just a moment. I swear I will never bother you again._

_No--that's a lie. I will bother you again. Again and again and again and again._

_I don't know what to say. My life is falling apart. Like wallpaper peeling at the edges. It'll all fall off someday._

_I think I'm going to kill myself._

_-blair_

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And then, there were a string of papers, some crumpled, some perversely neat, all without date, all addressed 'Dear Chuck', all signed 'Blair Waldorf'--even after she was married.

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_Dear Chuck,_

_I'm in Hell on Earth. Is this what it is like to be on Earth?_

_Love, _

_Blair Waldorf_

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_Dear Chuck,_

_I miss you._

_Love,_

_Blair Waldorf_

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_Dear Chuck,_

_Today Nate proposed to me. Proposed. He just said 'I love you. Would you like to marry me'? I said yes, I would, and allowed him to kiss me on the cheek. Then I allowed me to kiss him on the cheek. My breath was sour that day--I'd been drinking last night when I wrote that last letter to you. And I could see the expression on his face--he recoiled._

_That's stupid, you're laughing at me, and I wholeheartedly agree. I'm marrying Nate not to get revenge on you, not for peace and quiet and stability, not even for his money. Not for his good looks._

_I'm marrying Nate out of sheer boredom. So really, he's just as good as anyone, perhaps even better. He's got a blond mother and a blond-touched mansion and blond-touched hairs and he respects me._

_The crack is getting to my head._

_Just know that I am and always will be Blair Waldorf--or Blair Bass, if you prefer--to you. To myself. To anyone and everyone that matters--which is you._

_Love,_

_Blair Waldorf._

_P.S. Love,_

_Blair Bass_

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_Dear Chuck,_

_I'm on my honyemoon. Did I spell that right? My vision gets blurry after too much vodka. Vodka, Vodka, I love you. You are the train to Chuck._

_They palyed 'Sexyback' at our wedding. It made me laugh._

_What are you doing? Are you still alive? I still love you. You're right about Nate. You were always right about Nate. You were right about everything._

_Recently, I have developed the habit of cutting people short unless they are talking about something related to you. Like--if they're talking about any suits besides Savile Row, I cut them off. If they're talking about Nate and not you--I cut them off._

_People stare at me funny. I think they know I'm going mad._

_Love,_

_Blair Waldorf._

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_Dear Chuck,_

_I'm pregnant. Yes. I did the test today….I know I'm pregnant. I'm pregnant. It makes me happy and it gets me off my diet of cocaine and drink._

_I'm not going to apologize to you. This is my only reason to live. I'm hoping for a girl. A beautiful little girl--no, not named Audrey. My child with you is named Audrey. She's in my head. I was thinking Ella, maybe. A beautiful little girl with her father's eyes. Blond hair. I always wanted blond hair._

_Somehow, maybe _your_ traits--_your_ traits--will bounce off me and rediscover themselves in Ella. Like--somehow. Scientifically imposible, but possible in my heart. Anything is possible in my heart._

_I'm not friends with Serena anymore, although she desperately wants to be with me. I don't care about my mother. I don't care about Cyrus. I don't care about the wounded expression in Nate's eyes every time he looks at me. Dorota knows me better than anyone else-except you. So I tolerate her even as she comforts me._

_I'm regressing. Instead of Baby Blair turning into Grace Kelly, I'm even worse than Baby Blair. I'm like a child. I cry at the drop of a hat. I cry at the beginning of 'Cruel Intentions', for what is yet to come. I cry at the beginning of Atonement the hardest--the beginning, rather than the end, for at the beginning, there is hope._

_I love you. So much. With all my heart. There is a new heart for my little child. My heart made another one specially for her. That's the best thing about love--it grows, so there is always enough to grow around--you never have to divide it, unless with rivals._

_I have the feeling I am writing the most philosophical and sick things in here._

_Love,_

_Blair Waldorf_

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So engrossed had she been in the letter she did not hear the soft footsteps, even with the telltale craek of the stairs. There was a knock at the door and she jumped.

"Blair," said Nate. "It's me, Nate."

Oh, why did he always have to reiterate? Hastily, she shoved the letters into her box and locked it. His bloodshot gaze, for once, saw everything.

"Blair--"

"It's nothing." She stood up. She yawned--falsely. "Let's go to bed."

"Blair, what's,--going on?"

"Just--just looking at something. Bills--"

"Blair, please--"

She forgot about his imploring gaze. His hand crept up to touch her shoulder and she swatted it away. "Nathaniel Archibald. It is nothing." She glared at him coldly and went up to bed.


End file.
